Friday, July 31, 2009

the last day in a month of changes...

That's how I used to title my journal entries, every July 31st (if I happened to write), since I was fourteen. It was always symbolic for me, since I tend to try to live the hell (!) out of every July, seeing as it's my birth month and all.

I did a good job this month. Vacations, seeing friends, concerts, the beaches... I feel like I've been gone more than I've been around this month.

But, in an hour comes August... and with August always comes change. Sure, every day, minute, and hour brings change, but it seems like August always brings those real changes. People are moving away at a rapid rate (now the majority of all of my friends have graduated from college)... I'm planning to move away also (if everything works out)... my other friends are going back to school... lovers are falling off, and a love is leaving. Summer begins to depart and I could swear, when I wake up in the morning, those sunrises just don't look the same...

July leaves and the fanfare is gone... not life's fanfare, of course, but the summertime, frivolous fanfare... it's back to the grind. July, you've done me well this year. And I hope I've done you justice as well.
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A thought while riding home in the car: it's very easy to sit and lament over how things didn't work and how you would fix them if you were given another chance to do it all over again. Well, quite frankly, very few of us will see that second chance, and most of us, if given spoken chance, would fuck it all up, all over again. So what do you do? Make your peace with what that which you can't fix, and move on and keep living your life to the best of your ability.

Just a thought.

That being said, I sent spoken letter (read back if you're missing what I'm speaking of). And I don't know how it was received; I don't know if it was received at all. All I can do is pray that I find peace in what I said to this particular individual, and let the rest of the chips fall in God's hands... where they should have been all along.
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I saw Maxwell and Chrisette Michele in concert Thursday night. I love both these artists so it was no surprise that their concert was absolutely amazingly marvelous, but it was just so refreshing to be in the room with people who can actually sing... like, for real. I'm not talking Keri Hilson and Ne-Yo, here. I'm talking about that singing that happens when people have soul deep inside of them. When it just radiates from them. It's a very sexy thing.

It was a great way to top off my July :) As for now, I'm off to write an article. Because when my head gets clouded, sometimes I find that the written word does not suffice for the things inside. That's a new thing. I'm not sure if that's good, or bad. Nonetheless... until later...

hasta el julio proximo...

Thursday, July 23, 2009

to letter, or not to letter, that is the question

I thought I had a lot to say...

but as I let the days go by, I think, maybe it's easier if I just let you go...

but, is that really the tried-and-true Malorie style?

And what if I let you slip away

and never say

the things I thought

today?

Thursday, July 16, 2009

"'cause when I'm here, with you... the world stops for me... the world stops for me..."

the world will not stop turning for any of us:
my life goes on,
i wake, i eat,
i work, i travel;
the seasons will inevitably change,
my hair just might grow some more,
i might relocate
to another state,
because the world will not stop turning for any of us.
time goes on,
old memories just might be replaced with new ones;
sweet smiles
refocused,
new love just might abound,
because the world will not stop turning for any of us.

although, sometimes, i miss that kid
and his excited eyes
and his desire for life beyond
the box of his room,
and sometimes,
maybe just once in a while,
the world stops turning
for the present absence
of him.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

the "can't get right" entry

SO...

I've been trying to write this great blog entry for a couple of days now.

I've started, and stopped; wrote, and erased. I even started writing it by hand first, something I rarely ever do anymore.

But... the words just didn't feel right. The entire feeling of the entry just wasn't right.

SO...

I erased it, and here I am. With these sentences that aren't saying much to you.
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I was going to write about what would happen if all the guys I've loved, liked, talked to, and dated met with each other and had a meeting. (Yeah I know, who would think about something like this?) The reason I woke up one morning and thought about it was because I was thinking about someone and wondering if they were thinking of me... and then after that [daily] pondering, I wondered if (if they said anything about me at all) they spoke kindly of me. Or if they didn't.

So then I wondered if, if all the guys I've been involved with got an opportunity to sit down and talk with each other, I wondered if they would have similar things to share.
(and I'm talking about deeper things than the man, that ass was phat! type of comments.)

I wondered if their tone would be kind or not. It makes me wonder how similar I've been with different people. Have my kisses had elements of the same thing? Have my smiles given the same effect to different people? Have I flirted with all or been standoffish with some? Have I shown my cards too early to some, and to others, never folded?

I don't know. I guess I spend so much time thinking about situations and about people that sometimes I just wonder how those people feel about me.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

"I'll be around, when she's gone..."

From the Sinatra tune, no less...

...now and then, drop a line, to say that you're feeling fine...
and when, things go wrong, perhaps you'll see
you're meant for me,
so i'll be around,
when [s]he's gone...

*sigh*... deep breath.

Isn't it a damn shame how you remember so much about people after they're no longer in your life? Despite how they made their exit (death, ex-communication, break-up, etc.) as soon as they are gone, it's as if your mind brings to your attention all these memories that it had on reserve.

Little things, they usually are, things that got lost in the day to day of life; the minutiae that you tend to cling to when you start to realize the possibility that you might not ever experience those things in real time again.

Like the way someone's face practically lit up when they told a story, or when they laughed, or the way their eyes sparkled when they were amused... have you ever witnessed the sparkle in someone's eyes? It's extraordinary, and once you see it, you'll be able to tell the difference between eyes with and without sparkle.

Have you taken the time to notice the timbre of your love's voice? Once you stop hearing it, it tends to replay in your head... the way they spoke your name, the way they sounded when sleepy, or when aggravated...

What about the way they walked? The way their toes bounced slightly off the ground as though they were walking on clouds... or the way they kissed you, or held you...

You tend to not think of these things until confronted with something different, something that might be pleasing to the senses, but just isn't that thing that you knew. Must I say it--don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got 'til it's gone...



exhale...

foot in mouth syndrome

it's like the most aggravating mosquito bite,
right on my calf, where it seems no amount of scratching
will save me from imminent, inflammatory death.
it kind of reminds me of when a piece of chicken
is stuck in between those two upper-level teeth of mine
which immediately causes me to grab anything sharp and angled
in order to free the meat toward a fate of digestion.

quite frankly, my dear,
the thought of you is at once like all of these things--
it doesn't stop my life, but rather echoes
like the dull ache of a funny bone hit in just the right place
a few minutes previous.
one always replaces the other, making you always here,
and there's nothing I can do about it,
except keep moving through
the memory of what you smelled like
or how I used to lie in bed and fall asleep to our conversation,
while now I fall asleep with my phone off.
I have no choice but to smile
when I remember how silly you looked when you got excited;
like a big, beautiful kid,
with sparkles in your eyes
that bring tears to mine now.

it's like that trick knee you have--
you know, the one that always groans
when you bend down to pick something up.
there's nothing you can do about it.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Happy birthday to me...

21 + 1.

And I must say, I was very excited about my trip to the Westin tomorrow for Jazz Brunch... until I found out it's $49.95 a person.

Sorry, I'm not on my grown woman-paying 50 dollars for brunch-stance just yet. Maybe for 21 + 2?

To sleep, perchance to dream...

lovexoxoxoxo,
M

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